


French Silk

by Kangofu_CB



Series: Underneath Your Clothes [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Clint Barton in Lingerie, Crymaxer, Edgeplay, Gentle Dom Bucky Barnes, I Blame Tumblr, Lingerie, M/M, Praise Kink Clint, Rimming, clint barton cries it's canon, so much rimming, this is just where I live now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 08:38:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19787251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangofu_CB/pseuds/Kangofu_CB
Summary: Bucky’s fingers traced over the edges of the fabric beneath his shirt where it ran along his waist, resting just above his belly button, obviously trying to feel out just what it was by touch alone. His fingers brushed lower, tracing out the shape and contour of the fabric for long, silent moments, his gaze moving from Clint’s face to where his hands brushed over the fabric of the shirt.  Clint was breathing shallowly, each breath felt like it was a battle to take in, as Bucky worked out the details.When his thumbs met in the middle, just above Clint’s navel and hovering over where he knew there was a tiny, silk bow, Bucky finally looked up at Clint and grinned.“What’re you hiding under here sweetheart?” he asked, eyes warm and interested and curious.ORBucky fulfilled one of Clint's favorite fantasies, and now Clint wants to return the favor.It's date night, and he has a sexy surprise.





	French Silk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [1000_directions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/1000_directions/gifts).



> This is pure, unadulterated filth.

“Did I miss an anniversary?” Bucky asked when Clint stepped out of the bathroom in his good slacks and an only-slightly-wrinkled button-down shirt.

Clint looked down, feeling himself flush. He even had dress shoes on. “No? I just-”

He knew he looked surprisingly different than usual. For all that he and Bucky joked about ‘date night’ Clint seldom did more than shower and put on a pair of jeans, he certainly didn’t dig through the closet for special occasion clothes, and he was _definitely_ overdressed for what Bucky would have expected. 

But, well- Clint had a surprise, was all, and he was pretty sure the slacks were a better option than his ratty jeans in this particular instance. He’d been worried the jeans would ruin the surprise, because the fabric wasn’t smooth, wasn’t soft, and the fact that most of his jeans had holes in them wasn’t conducive to hiding a secret.

Especially the kind of secret Clint was currently concealing. 

“It’s date night,” he said, instead of explaining. 

“Do I need to change?” Bucky asked, eyebrows still raised. 

“No!” Clint reassured, stepping closer. “No, you look great. Perfect.”

He was wearing those _goddamn_ black skinny jeans again, with a white t-shirt and a regular jean jacket and _somehow_ he managed to make it work. Like some kind of hipster badass aesthetic that Clint didn’t understand but definitely appreciated. 

He’d shaved, though, his face as smooth as it had been when he’d surprised Clint in the hallway, and Clint now had an almost Pavlovian response to Bucky with a bare jaw. It automatically made him think of Bucky on his knees - Bucky with his mouth deep crimson and wrapped around Clint’s cock - and it nearly always led to them not leaving the house at all for several hours. 

Clint had planned for them to go out - in fact he’d got a reservation at a restaurant nearby - but now he was wondering if they were going to make it out of the tower at all. Linen tablecloth Chinese dining was an _experience_ , one he’d intended to introduce Bucky to tonight, but Bucky looked like _that_ and was chewing on his lip uncertainly, and none of it did anything to steer Clint’s thoughts back on track.

The way his legs felt under his pants wasn’t helping the situation at all, and the twitch his cock gave as Bucky sucked his lip into his mouth and then released it through his teeth reminded him just exactly what he’d planned for the latter half of the evening. 

He’d planned on dinner first, but plans could be changed. 

They could have fancy Chinese dinner another night. 

He wrapped his fingers around Bucky’s hips, pulling him in until they were just centimeters apart, and leaned down for a kiss. He wanted to taste the fullness of Bucky’s lips, especially now that they were red and damp from his mouth. Bucky arched into it, reaching up to frame Clint’s face in his hands and hold him just so, until he could get the angle of the kiss just how he liked it. Clint groaned, his fingers clenching against Bucky’s sides and tugging him further into his embrace. Their mouths were hot and slick against each other, Bucky flicking his tongue in and out of Clint’s mouth - sometimes diving deep and other times barely a tease - making him want more. He pulled Bucky even closer, even though they were already pressed almost as close together as they could get, Bucky’s jeans sliding roughly over the fabric of Clint’s pants and teasing at his trapped cock. 

Clint was fisting the back of Bucky’s t-shirt in his hands - fingers sliding against the warm, worn out cotton - before he realized his mistake. By touching, he’d invited Bucky to touch and now- 

Now Bucky’s hands had migrated, from Clint’s face to his shoulders, and then further until they were trailing down his chest and sides to wrap around his waist.

Clint felt it when Bucky stilled beneath his hands, going completely immobile when his fingertips skimmed over the faint outline of what Clint was wearing _under_ the button-down shirt. Clint froze in response, his mouth still pressed against Bucky’s, both of them breathing the same air but no longer really kissing. They were standing, stock-still, mouths hovering over one another and staring.

Bucky looked confused, his brow furrowed and eyes narrowed, and Clint probably just looked terrified, if the way his face felt was any indication.

This was not how he had intended Bucky to discover his secret - his surprise. He’d meant it to be a sexy thing, something he revealed when they got home, once he’d plied Bucky with good food and a few drinks and eased into the subject. This felt a little too fast, made him a little too anxious. Clint wasn’t quite ready for Bucky to figure out what he’d planned. 

Unfortunately, it was a bit too late for that. 

Bucky’s fingers traced over the edges of the fabric beneath his shirt where it ran along his waist, resting just above his belly button, obviously trying to feel out just what it was by touch alone. His fingers brushed lower, tracing out the shape and contour of the fabric for long, silent moments, his gaze moving from Clint’s face to where his hands brushed over the fabric of the shirt. Clint was breathing shallowly, each breath felt like it was a battle to take in, as Bucky worked out the details. 

When his thumbs met in the middle, just above Clint’s navel and hovering over where he knew there was a tiny, silk bow, Bucky finally looked up at Clint and grinned. 

“What’re you hiding under here sweetheart?” he asked, eyes warm and interested and curious. 

“It’s not- I’m not _hiding_ anything,” Clint protested, feeling a blush creeping up his face. He wasn’t hiding. He was just… biding his time. Preparing. 

There’d been a lot of preparation involved, not that he had any interest in explaining the details. To anyone. Ever. 

Bucky dragged his hands along Clint’s waist to his hips, feeling the smooth glide of fabric-on-fabric, and raised an eyebrow.

He was always better than Clint at waiting out answers, and it wasn’t long before Clint caved. 

“It’s- it was supposed to be a _surprise,”_ Clint said, grimacing. “For later.”

There was a moment where Bucky seemed to consider that, his head cocked to one side as he studied Clint’s face. Clint waited, his breath stuttering in his chest and his anxiety growing by the moment as he prepared for judgment. 

“Are you sure I didn’t forget an anniversary?”

Clint barked out a laugh, a little of his anxiety retreating beneath the humor. “Yeah, babe, I’m sure. It was just-” He blew a breath out through his nose, before sucking it up and finally admitting what was going on. “It’s like the thing with the lipstick.”

Bucky looked even more intrigued now. He knew both that it was in Clint’s top five hottest things that had ever happened to him _ever_ and that he’d been looking to return the favor. Bucky had blown his _mind_ when he’d got a tube of dark red lipstick and marked Clint up with it, and then he’d let Clint return the favor and Clint wasn’t ashamed to admit it was now his go-to fantasy when he was off on a mission or Bucky was gone, and he’d been itching for an opportunity to give Bucky a similar memory. Granted, Bucky liked the lipstick about as much as Clint did - breaking it out randomly anytime he wanted to take Clint apart piece by piece - but Bucky enjoying it wasn’t quite the same as Clint fulfilling one of Bucky’s own deeply-held fantasies. 

It had taken weeks of planning, an obscene amount of money and two of the most humiliating conversations of his life, but Clint was pretty sure he’d managed it. Even the world’s worst conversation with Steve Rogers plus having to ask Nat whether or not Nair was safe for his balls couldn’t detract from what Clint was pretty sure was going to also feature in all his future fantasies.

If he could just get up the courage to take his pants off. 

“Is this surprise contingent on us going out first?” Bucky asked, fingering the buttons on Clint’s shirt.

It was always good when Bucky was on the same page as Clint.

Swallowing hard, Clint shook his head. “No, just wanted to do something nice. Show you a good time.”

“Mmm,” Bucky hummed, slowly undoing the buttons on Clint shirt, one slow rasp of fingers at a time. “I can think of other ways you could show me a good time.”

It was a torturously long time and simultaneously not long enough before Bucky got Clint’s shirt fully untucked and unbuttoned, and then he pushed it off of Clint’s shoulders. It left Clint standing in his only pair of good slacks, his dress shoes, and a swirling mix of embarrassment and arousal. 

His good slacks and - peeking above the waistband - the edges of black silk against his skin, disappearing beneath the pants. 

Bucky looked puzzled for just a second before his eyebrows rose again in disbelief and then he was staring up at Clint in dawning understanding. Clint felt the blush spread from his cheeks to his throat and ears in a hot rush. He swallowed back all his nervous explanation, though, waiting for Bucky to ask. 

“Is this-” Bucky didn’t finish the question, just looked down to stare at the fabric and run his hands along the edges over and over, like he couldn’t help himself.

Clint swallowed hard and then started toeing his shoes off as he reached for his belt. He didn’t have words to explain, but he was better with showing than telling anyway. He kicked the shoes out of the way - revealing the thin silk on his feet as well - but Bucky slapped his hands away from his belt buckle and started unfastening it himself. 

The slacks fell to the floor in an ungainly heap, but Bucky didn’t seem to notice, because he was too busy staring at what Clint was wearing underneath.

Clint had been forced to order from a French shop online, guessing at his sizes based on charts and measurements, but in the end he’d come up with an approximation of what a garter belt and stockings would have looked like back in the forties. High waisted and slim, with six suspenders to hold the stockings up. The belt and stockings were both black, though the stockings were more transparent than anything, with a thin seam up the back that had been a bitch to get on straight and-

“Holy shit,” Bucky breathed, running his hand along Clint’s hip and down to his thigh, brushing over the bare skin in between. Clint opened his mouth - to say what, he didn’t know - but Bucky dropped to his knees before Clint could speak, and reached out to help him with his pants. He lifted Clint’s feet carefully, wrapping his right hand around his ankle oh-so-gently, and then lifting his foot out of his pants one leg at a time until he could toss the slacks out of the way, and Clint was standing in the chilled air of the bedroom in a garter, stockings, and-

Bucky ran his hand up Clint’s leg, sliding his fingers across the smooth silk, almost reverently. The same way he’d taken Clint’s feet out of the slacks, almost like he was in awe. 

“Holy shit,” Bucky said again, still crouched on the floor. “Are you wearing _panties?”_

Clint choked a little. “I couldn’t- I couldn’t wear the stockings without the garter,” he rushed to explain, “because they’re not _elastic_ , ‘cos I was trying to get authentic ones, and Steve said-”

“You asked Steve?” Bucky said, looking some mixture of horrified and amused. 

“Well I didn’t have anyone _else_ to ask.” Clint grumbled, shuffling. “And then I couldn’t- I had the garter and the stockings but then my dick was just flopping everywhere and it looked horrible with my boxers and- so I ordered the panties and-”

“Stop talking.” Bucky said, but he still sounded amused and gently fond. “Just shut up and let me enjoy this. Fuck, you look amazing.”

His fingers were toying with the edge of the stocking, though he was keeping his left hand carefully away from the delicate fabric, resting it against Clint’s bare leg and part of his hip instead. Bucky leaned forward, running his lips along the skin of Clint’s inner thigh and making him shiver.

Clint’s skin was so much more _sensitive_ now, bare and naked and every brush of Bucky’s mouth or fingers against him made him shudder.

“Fuck.” Bucky said, inhaling sharply, “did you _shave_ too?”

“Sort of,” Clint admitted. “I used Nair.”

It had taken at least three showers to get the chemical scent off his skin, but Clint’s first pass along his admittedly-hairy leg had gummed up the razor too badly to contemplate. 

And his legs weren’t the only thing he’d been trying to get smooth. 

Bucky didn’t respond except to drag his tongue along the length of the suspender closest to his mouth, forcing a short, sharp sound out of Clint’s throat. Bucky grinned up at him then leaned back on his heels and started stripping his jacket off. “Bed,” he growled, eyes already half-lidded. “Now.”

Clint aimed himself backwards, stumbling towards the bed without looking, unable to take his eyes away as Bucky rose to his feet still shrugging off his clothes. The jacket and shirt landed in a heap near Clint’s discarded pants, and he was already striding towards the bed as he unsnapped his jeans. Clint’s cock twitched when Bucky came to a stop at the foot of the bed and shimmied out of the pants and his underwear, leaving them where they landed on the floor to crawl over Clint - all smooth, gliding muscles and the shine of his arm in the low light. Clint had left the bathroom light on but the bedroom was muted and almost-dark, just the warm glow of the yellow light spilling over the bed. 

“Hi,” he breathed, when Bucky was propped over him, gazing down at Clint’s face.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Hi,” he answered, then leaned in to cover Clint’s mouth with his own. He held the rest of his body carefully over Clint’s, holding himself up like it was nothing, but Clint felt exposed in a way he didn’t like, the cool air drifting between them, so he wrapped his hands around Bucky’s shoulders and hitched his leg over Bucky’s hip to pull him in. Bucky made a startled sound, and then groaned, low and wanting, as the Clint’s stocking-clad leg slid over his skin and pulled their bodies together. Bucky’s naked cock slid over Clint’s silk-covered one, making both of them shudder. Bucky reached down to grab Clint’s thigh and hike it even higher on his hip, forcing them even closer together. 

“Fuck,” Bucky managed, trailing his mouth across Clint’s jaw. He worked his way down Clint’s throat, kisses softer than Clint was used to, more breathy presses of lips than rough scrapes of teeth, and Clint arched his neck further, silently asking for more. 

Bucky ignored him, continued trailing leisurely kisses down Clint’s neck to his chest, dragging his mouth across the bare skin of his shoulders and pausing to suck a nipple into his mouth. Clint groaned, reaching to thread his fingers into Bucky’s hair, but Bucky released the abused nipple and dodged out of the way, wrapping his fingers gently around Clint’s wrist. He pressed it back down onto the mattress and looked up at Clint, biting his lip.

“Just- Let me explore? I want to enjoy this.”

Clint left his hand where Bucky had placed it and then wrapped his other leg around Bucky’s waist, locking his ankles behind his back and dragging them along Bucky’s spine. 

Bucky closed his eyes and shuddered. 

Wow, this was really working for him. Clint smirked a little, then lifted his arms to cross them behind his head, leaving the entire expanse of his body open to Bucky’s perusal. “Knock yourself out,” he said, and it was almost like a challenge. 

Bucky blinked his eyes back open, but his expression was more soft than competitive, even when he leaned up enough that Clint had to unhook his ankles to give him space, planting his feet on the bed instead and leaving him exposed in the black silk. Lazily, Bucky smoothed his hand over Clint’s leg again, from his knee all the way up to his thigh, where the crease of his leg met the edge of the black silk panties, and he brushed his thumb over the thin, sensitive skin there, back and forth, until Clint was panting under the attention and shifting his hips to get more contact. 

Smiling, Bucky leaned down and ran his tongue along the same path, and Clint almost came out of his _skin_ , arching up into it with a garbled noise.

He didn’t feel smug at all anymore. 

Easing back up, Bucky resumed the meandering path he’d been taking down Clint’s chest, trading the first nipple for the second, and laving it with tongue and teeth until it was puffy and sensitive and Clint was clutching his own hair and groaning before he moved on. Bucky pressed the softest, most reverent kiss in the center of Clint’s sternum, and then he was dragging his mouth and metal hand across Clint’s stomach, biting gently at his abs and licking the ticklish places along his rib cage, until Clint was throbbing and hard underneath the silk panties. 

Bucky glided his hands along Clint’s sides until they were wrapped around his hips, and then he took the bow on the front of the garter between his teeth and tugged, gently, just enough to pull the silk away from Clint’s skin and let it snap back into place. 

Clint couldn’t help the noise that came out of his mouth, but he could feel Bucky grinning against his stomach, even through the fabric. 

Nosing lower, Bucky worked his way past the edge of the garter until he hit the sheer, thin silk of the panties, where Clint’s cock was bulging obscenely against the fabric, tucked up and to the side - like a mockery of modesty - and already leaking. Bucky mouthed over it, wetting the material even further, breathing heavily against Clint’s shaft and then swirling his tongue at the head and sucking him through the fabric.

“Oh _god,”_ Clint managed, panting and arching into the motion. 

Bucky huffed a laugh against Clint’s skin, but continued his exploration, still dragging his mouth over Clint’s covered cock, then lower, along the exposed skin of his thighs and breathing hotly against his perineum. Metal arm still holding Clint’s hip, Bucky slid his other hand around Clint’s leg until he was tracing his fingertips along the edge of the panties and then underneath, to press up against the sensitive place behind his balls. 

Clint moaned loudly, almost missing Bucky’s sharp intake of breath. 

“You shaved here too?” Bucky asked, dragging his fingertips as far as he could reach along Clint’s newly-bare skin. 

“Nair,” Clint panted, “not a razor, but yeah.”

Bucky groaned and rested his forehead against Clint’s thigh. He flattened himself out on the bed, resting his hips against the mattress and propping himself up on his elbows so that he could get his mouth on Clint’s body, still tasting him through the fabric. He reached up, coaxing Clint’s thighs up onto his shoulders as he leaned into it, licking at Clint’s cock, his balls, and the hidden places behind them, until the fabric of his panties was damp and clinging and Clint was squirming wildly under his mouth. 

“Fuck,” Bucky murrmurred, tracing his tongue along the inner crease of Clint’s thigh. “Fuck, I wanna get my mouth on you.”

“I can- I can take this off,” Clint babbled. “I just gotta- the clips unsnap and I can probably get the panties out from under the belt I just gotta-” He levered himself up onto his elbows, but Bucky _growled_ , yanking Clint’s hips and pulling him closer to his face, making him fall onto his back again. 

“It’s been eighty years since I’ve had silk stockings around my ears, you’re not goin’ anywhere.” Bucky slid his metal hand off of Clint’s hip and under his thigh until he could hook his fingers into the delicate fabric of Clint’s panties and then he gave a sharp, vicious tug.

The panties tore like tissue paper under his fingers, leaving Clint bare and exposed in a whole new way, and he shivered. 

But also, he felt a little outraged. 

“Do you know how much those _cost?”_ Clint demanded, raising his head off the mattress to give Bucky a blistering glare.

“I’ll buy you new ones,” Bucky said, and then his mouth was on Clint’s bare skin, hot and wet and goddamn mind-blowing, and Clint forgot all about his outrage, unable to focus on anything except the feeling of Bucky’s lips and tongue on his skin.

It was so much _more_ like this, Bucky’s smooth jaw against his smooth, hairless skin, his tongue hot and wet over skin that was already sensitive at the best of times but now felt like an actual live wire directly to his nerve endings. 

Clint moaned, loud and wanton. “Oh _christ,_ ” he panted, his hands coming down from behind his head to tangle in the sheets. “Jesus god, you’re gonna kill me.”

Bucky hummed against Clint’s bare skin, the vibrations pressed up close to his dick and making him give a strangled cry. Bucky pushed Clint’s hips even higher, until his feet were practically on Bucky’s shoulders and he was bent nearly in half and then his tongue rasped across Clint’s hole, sloppy and wet and utterly filthy and Clint nearly sobbed at the sensation. 

Turning his head, Bucky smacked a kiss to Clint’s bare thigh, grinned up at him from between Clint’s legs, and then leaned in and did it again. 

Clint’s cock was still trapped in the remnants of the ruined silk, still pressed tightly against the fabric where it was wrapped around his hips, but Bucky had his ass fully exposed, had Clint at his mercy. 

Except he wasn’t showing any mercy at all, he had Clint pinned down, forcing him still as he licked over his hole again and again, thrusting the tip of his tongue inside Clint, so close to what he actually wanted but not quite enough. It was torture of the best kind. Clint felt like his entire nervous system was on fire, tingling with pleasure as Bucky steadily worked him open with his mouth, his tongue pressing deeper every time, the muscles of Clint’s body relaxing to accept the intrusion as Clint writhed and pleaded. 

He’d utterly lost track of what was coming out of his mouth - Clint just knew it was nearly wordless, plaintive and breathless and helpless in a way Clint secretly loved but had never admitted to out loud. 

“Oh fuck, _please,”_ he managed on a gasp, and Bucky rasped his tongue over Clint’s loosened hole at the same time that he released his right hip and reached up to shove his first two metal fingers in Clint’s mouth. 

The sound Clint made in response was something straight out of a porn. 

He sucked Bucky’s fingers until they were blood-warm and slick with his saliva, making obscene noises the whole time, while Bucky methodically ate him out.

And then Bucky pulled his fingers out of Clint’s mouth and brought them down to slip along the edge of Clint’s hole, sliding the first one in beside his tongue. 

“Oh god oh god oh god oh _god_.” Clint was beyond words, beyond thought. 

There was a familiar _snick_ and then Bucky’s mouth moved from his rim to his fabric-covered dick, sloppy over the destroyed silk as he slid slippery metal fingers into Clint’s body. 

Clint keened, arching into Bucky’s mouth and pushing back against the intrusive fingers as much as he was able, panting up at the ceiling. He’d closed his eyes at some point, but he opened them now, bleary and prickling with tears, to look down. 

Bucky looked _debauched_. His hair was mussed and his chin was shining with saliva as he looked up to meet Clint’s gaze. He was flushed and his pupils were blown and if Clint had known how much this was going to affect him he’d have done it months ago. 

Hell, he’d have turned up in Bucky’s bed in lingerie _years_ ago. 

Bucky clambered back over him, letting Clint’s thighs go but leaving his fingers inside, rhythmically and methodically taking Clint apart. Clint wrapped his left leg around Bucky’s waist again, urging him closer. Bucky went willingly, propping himself on his elbow at Clint’s shoulder and easing in to mouth at Clint’s neck. His hip was pressing up against Clint’s cock, just barely, and the pressure was driving Clint out of his mind. 

“You like this?” Bucky asked, as though it weren’t immediately obvious just how much Clint liked it. As if he wasn’t arching into Bucky’s touch and digging his fingers into Bucky’s back. “You like my fingers in you, working you open? Like my mouth on you?”

“ _Fuck,”_ Clint hissed. 

Bucky crooked his fingers and Clint saw stars. “Answer me, sweetheart,” Bucky crooned, bedroom dirty, a little hint of laughter in his tone. 

“You know I do,” Clint gasped out, squeezing Bucky with his thigh. “I’d like it better if you fucked me.”

“I’d like it better if you asked nicely,” Bucky said, biting down on the side of Clint’s neck where it met his shoulder, into the meat of the muscle there. “Maybe used your manners a little. People wearing underthings like this ought to have some manners.” 

“You ripped my underthings,” Clint pointed out, wondering why he was even arguing the point. 

“I’m real sorry about that honey,” Bucky said, managing to sound at least a little remorseful, though there was still a hint of amusement in his voice. 

He slid a third finger into Clint, twisting them up higher and rubbing roughly against Clint’s prostate. 

“ _Please_ ,” Clint gasped out, unable to maintain the banter. “Fuck, please.” 

Bucky pressed a feather-light kiss to the edge of Clint’s jaw and lifted up, snagging an unused pillow, then sat back. He gently withdrew his fingers and looked Clint over like a conquerer surveying his domain, satisfaction in every line of his body. 

“Fuck, you look pretty,” Bucky said, gently running his fingers over Clint’s aching cock. 

Clint made a choked-off sound, wrecked and broken. 

“Aw, sweetheart,” Bucky said, using his right hand to run his thumb under Clint’s eyes. “Don’t cry, I’m gonna take care of you.”

“I’m not crying,” Clint muttered, ignoring the way his voice sounded thick and hoarse. 

“Sure you’re not,” Bucky replied. “Lift up,” he instructed, and then arranged the pillow under Clint’s hips so he was propped up. He shuffled forward on his knees and reached down to slick his cock with his still-slippery fingers, and then lined up to press into Clint, achingly slow. 

Clint made the same punched out, hoarse cry as Bucky breached him, stretching him open around his cock, and Clint scrabbled for his shoulders, needing something to hold on to, to anchor himself. 

Everything about this was a hundred times more intense than he’d expected. He’d planned on a fun romp in the bedroom, a sexy surprise. He hadn’t counted on how thoroughly Bucky would wreck him, how destroyed he’d be by tender touches and the strong, demanding way Bucky was going to take him. 

Jesus fucking Christ, was this how he’d been with women in the forties? Because if so, his reputation had been well-deserved. 

Bucky rocked into him incrementally, a little deeper with each thrust, until he was dragging across Clint’s prostate with every motion and Clint was outright sobbing. He pulled Bucky down, close to his body where he could hide his face in his shoulder and just feel. 

Bucky fucked him slow and steady, adjusting his angle until Clint was shuddering constantly underneath him, marking him up with lips and teeth at his throat and whispering an unending stream of filth in his ear. 

“Like that sweetheart? You want it harder?” His hips slammed into Clint’s once, twice, three times, making Clint cry out, and then he was back to the steady, inexhaustible pace. “Or maybe faster?” He sped up, keeping his thrusts shallow so that all Clint could feel was constant pressure on his prostate, making him hiccup out another sob. “Tell me what you like baby, anything you want.”

Clint wanted Bucky to never, ever stop, to fuck him like this forever, to talk to him like this forever, but his cock felt like it was going to explode and his brain had long since turned to mush. 

“Touch me,” he gasped, arching up into Bucky’s embrace. 

Bucky made a small, pleased sound, then shifted so that he could work his hand between their bodies. The new angle made sparks fly behind Clint’s squeezed-shut eyelids and then Bucky pressed the heel of his hand to Clint’s cock, using the motion of his thrusts to rock Clint up into the pressure. 

“There you go sweetheart, come for me.”

Bucky sped up, working to get off with Clint now, grunting with effort. 

Clint gave another wordless cry, trapped between the dual sensation, and then he came soundlessly, gasping for air as he shivered and shook in Bucky’s arms, soaking his already-ruined panties and clamping down rhythmically around Bucky’s cock as he came so hard he couldn’t _breathe._

He was still panting, still arching into the thrusts and the contact, riding out his orgasm when Bucky made a low, punched-out sound in the back of his throat and came, shaking in Clint’s arms with his mouth pressed to Clint’s throat. 

Bucky held himself up on trembling arms for long moments before Clint coaxed him down, wrapping him up in an embrace. Clint could feel moisture drying on his face, but he wasn’t thinking about that, now or ever. He was focused on running his fingers up and down Bucky’s spine and feeling the steady beat of his heart against Clint’s chest. 

“You owe me a seventy dollar pair of panties, Barnes,” Clint said, after they were both breathing normally and Bucky had shifted to slip out of Clint and roll to the side. He was still looking at Clint, something unreadable on his face as his fingers toyed with the edge of the silk belt. 

“I’ll buy you all the expensive panties you want,” Bucky assured him, smirking, “but next time, wear them over the garter like everyone who’s plannin’ to get laid does, so I don’t have to rip them off.”

“So I wear the panties and you wear the lipstick, is that how this goes?” Clint asked, grinning to take any sting out of the words.

“Next time you should wear both,” Bucky growled, and yanked Clint into the kind of kiss that meant ‘next time’ was going to be happening very, very soon. 

“Deal,” Clint said breathlessly, when Bucky released him, “but only if you return the favor.”

**Author's Note:**

> I owe SO MANY thanks 
> 
> Mostly to Steph who encouraged this, egged it on, convinced me to write it, and then gave it the best screaming beta read approximately five minutes before I posted it. She is the real MVP here. This is for you bby. 
> 
> Also to Clara who always, ALWAYS comes through when I need to know exactly what kind of stockings were popular in the 1940s, and what kind of garter, and what the modern equivalent might look like. You are the best and I love you. 
> 
> The panties aren't authentic, but they really do cost like $70 goddamn dollars and we aren't going to talk about the stockings. 
> 
> And to everyone else who had to listen to me whine about this fic, talked through any bit of it, or helped me in even the tiniest way (and there are plenty of you and you may not even know it) a million thanks, as always <3 
> 
> I love everyone in this bar, but especially you kinky fucks who love boys in lingerie as much as I do!


End file.
